


The Wind Beneath My Wings

by local_enginerd



Series: From the Ashes [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, fareeha has a bad dream okay, they fly together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_enginerd/pseuds/local_enginerd
Summary: Who will protect the protector?In the darkest parts of the night, it is this question and it alone that surfaces among all the sounds that echo in her mind. And, before she hits the ground, a meteor of blue and gold, Fareeha Amari wakes.When the world is silent but her mind is too loud, Fareeha takes to the skies. And sometimes, Angela flies with her.





	The Wind Beneath My Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to put this out when Mercy first got her new ult. I'm late, what's new? Whups.

_ Thuk, thuk, thuk. _

The steady beat of hooves against dirt. Dew drops that cling to the mossy rocks. Overhead, the morning sun peeks gently through the canopies of the gentle giants. She remembers clinging to the red fabric of her father’s uniform when he first showed her this path, years ago.

_ Thuk, thuk, thuk. _

The shuddering of heavy artillery, loud enough to be heard kilometers away. Steel beasts that breathed smoke and fire as they rained death upon Omniums. Even through the holo-call, she could hear the weapons roar behind her mother.

_ Thuk, thuk, thuk. _

The Iron Ring as she rapped her knuckles against the bench. Mechanical groans from machinery of all sorts that echoed in the workshop.

_ Thuk, thuk, thuk. _

The sound of a dozen boots, running in unison. The butt of her gun digging into her shoulder with every shot.  The smell of gunpowder that wouldn’t ever seem to wash out of her uniform, baked in by the Egyptian sun.

_ Thuk, thuk, thuk. _

The engines on the Raptora sputtering helplessly as she plummeted out of the sky. The fires that coiled around her, fangs sinking into the armor. A black smoke in its wake.

_ Who will protect the protector? _

In the darkest parts of the night, it is this question and it alone that surfaces among all the sounds that echo in her mind. And, before she hits the ground, a meteor of blue and gold, Fareeha Amari wakes. The sheets cling to Fareeha’s back, threatening to pull her under and drown her. But, when her vision clears and the drum of her heart steadies, the soldier finds herself back at the Watchpoint, Angela soundly asleep (for once) beside her.

More often than not, after she places herself again, Fareeha slips out of the bed, careful not to disturb her girlfriend. When Angela curls around the empty space, the soldier gingerly brushes the blonde’s hair aside, pressing a kiss to her temple.

A right down the hall, past the kitchen, two lefts, up the stairs, and after a biometric sensor, Fareeha finds one of her homes away from home; the hangar has always been somewhere her heart leads her. She knows that this will not be an answer she can find in the stars, yet Fareeha takes to the skies anyways. 

Weaving through the clouds, in maneuvers long since committed to memory, Fareeha pushes the Raptora to its limits. Perhaps, next time, if she were faster, another life could be saved, another plot could be thwarted, even if her days were numbered. Fareeha has made peace with the last of those statement, yet that fact does little to quash her fears - that she simply cannot bear the world on her shoulders alone. 

_ If someone as strong as Ana couldn’t do it, what chance did she have? _

Still, Fareeha soars above the waves, higher and higher until there are no more questions, no need for answers. She is alone in the inky blackness, nothing below and only Allah above.

And that is how Angela Ziegler finds her, at the edge of the Watchpoint. Just as the doctor withdraws into her lab, Fareeha finds solace in the stars. With the rise of the sun, the Raptora begins to gleam golden and blue against the pink clouds.

The doctor’s voice comes through the comms in Fareeha’s helmet. “Now, I know this isn’t what you meant when you said you’re an ‘early bird’,  _ schatz _ .”

She doesn’t answer right away. Not even for the pun.

Fareeha knows that the integrated overlay on the Valkyrie can most certainly read her fuel levels. The brilliant doctor can most certainly extrapolate as to how long her girlfriend’s been up there. But this is not what Angela asks. Nor will it be what Fareeha answers.

“It’s...too loud down there. With everyone.” Fareeha’s voice cracks over the comms. “I needed to get away.”

Angela can tell by the way the soldier swallows that there are more words, that perhaps there are things Fareeha is not ready to speak of. So Angela waits for her girlfriend to fill that space. 

“But it’s also too quiet up here alone, sometimes. Fly with me,  _ habibti? _ ” 

Angela can almost hear the smile in her voice. The gravity of the request is not lost on either of them; the skies had always been Fareeha’s space. Again, the doctor considers her words for a moment before replying

Angela whispers. “Don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

When she returns, Angela finds Fareeha sitting on the edge of the cliffs, fiddling with her helmet. She approaches her girlfriend slowly, to avoid startling her. The doctor crouches down next to her and Fareeha turns to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Ready?” 

“Always, Fareeha.”

Angela steps back as Fareeha initiates a jump, the hot air from the Raptora’s thrusters washing over her. The soldier twists as she rockets upwards, so she can maintain a sightline for Angela. Yet Fareeha notes that Angela doesn’t engage the Valkyrie’s guardian angel protocol; she engages their comms to ask.

“Do you, uh,” Angela pauses. From the skies, Fareeha can still read her apprehension; the wings on the Valkyrie twitch ever so slightly. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Fareeha answers without hesitation. Even when plagued by uncertainty, there is one thing she will always know.

The wings on the Valkyrie suit burn brighter than they ever have before. They stretch and curl against the ground, leaving sparks in their wake when Angela soars upwards. She glides above the waves in smooth circles before catching an updraft, catching up with Fareeha.

For a moment, Fareeha can’t help but gaze in awe at Angela’s wings. The flames pulse gently, seemingly in time with the doctor’s heartbeat as they beat against the air.

_ Almost as radiant as the woman who wields the staff _ , Fareeha thinks as she trails her fingers through the embers. She laughs as Angela leans into her space, the flaming wings giving a few mighty flaps to stabilize the suit against the wind. The doctor tilts Fareeha’s helmet upwards to press a kiss to Fareeha’s lips.

“You never stop surprising me,” Fareeha chuckles, pressing a kiss to Angela’s knuckles before intertwining their hands. “That’s what I love about you.”

Angela kisses her again before twisting away. Fareeha grins and nods, sliding the visor of the Raptora back into place. 

Together, they take the skies, wordlessly, for there is nothing else to be said. 


End file.
